


riduurok, cyar'ika

by MandoGab



Category: Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Art and Love, Artist and Warrior, Death Watch, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Mandalore, Mando'a, New Mandalorians (Star Wars), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Planet Krownest (Star Wars), Pre Vizsla as an asshole, True Mandalorians (Star Wars), Ursa and Bo-Katan friendship, before/during/after Clone Wars
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-14 12:15:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29295762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MandoGab/pseuds/MandoGab
Summary: She met him completely by chance, but they had a bond, causing them to find everything they had never looked for, but what they needed.This is a story of Ursa and Alrich Wren's love that although it has a happy ending, it leads through a hard road.
Relationships: Alrich Wren/Ursa Wren
Comments: 21
Kudos: 12





	1. your light

_I see it in your eyes your  
losing all your light  
each day feels longer  
than the day that came before_

**24 BBY**

The explosion was amazing - it sounded in the ears of customs officers, people who were at the docks, as well as in the interior of the perpetrator of the whole event, who was hiding behind the previously unloaded crates, watching the entire incident. She smiled slightly, then sent a short message to the commander that the mission went according to plan.

The ship stood on fire, and she watched the flames penetrate inside, preventing any survivors of the blast from escaping. The sounds of fire, consuming the means of transport, suddenly drown out sirens, guards appear, and for the armor-clad warrior it is time to withdraw and run away.

She leaned out from behind the containers, looking for a man who would show her an escape route, but saw no one who was interested in her position. She crouched back down quickly, turning on the communicator, which creaks but softly enough that in the chaos nobody pays attention to it.

" _Tion vaii cuyir gar taap?_ [Where is your position?]" Asked one of the warriors, answering her call. She began sending him the coordinates, but the connection was blocked. She growled under her breath as she tried to resume uploading, but this attempt failed too.

"Get up!"

The mandalorian looked up as a loud scream reached her ears. But not everyone was busy putting out the fire, she thought. One of the guards stood in front of her, dressed in pacifist armor made of cheap but practical materials. The young woman smiled under her helmet, but obeyed. Or maybe she shouldn't have done this? Instead, pretend she doesn't understand basic's pacifist gibberish.

"Give me the gun," he said, not accepting the refusal. However, she could not comply with this order. "Come on, otherwise I'll start shooting!"

" _Nar dralshy!_ [Try harder!]" she muttered, quickly reaching for the blasters that were hidden in their holsters until now.

"Drop the weapon!" Someone shouted behind her.

She was a Mandalorian, a weapon was part of her life. Unlike the guards, she was dressed in beskar, she had undergone all the training that prepared her for such situations. Her two precise arrows almost instantly reached the two men, laying their bodies on the ground. She betrayed her position. This was not the course of the operation, it was supposed to retreat into the shadows, not to kill the capital's guards.  
And yet, she had no choice, right?

"Stop!" Someone shouted as she started to run, running straight ahead. She was perfectly prepared. Years of exercise made her body endure, even in the most difficult conditions. Sundari was merely a city, the capital of Mandalore. The young woman wasn't afraid of muddy paths or water-filled canals. Dry land to run on and glass buildings to hide among.

Her heavy boots bounced slightly off the paved road as she ran straight ahead. She needed a good hiding place to finally call for help and get out of this populous city.

The streets at this time were a bit deserted, which made it difficult for her to hide in the crowd and to lose the guards, who did not slow down for a moment. On the contrary - they accelerated or maybe she slowed down. Without pausing for a moment, she turned and fired two well-aimed shots at them. Fire pierced the chests of two guards, their bodies falling to the ground. The woman smiled under her helmet and looked straight ahead again. She didn't have time to react when another guard suddenly appeared in her way, trying to grab her from the side she was headed. She ran into him, but wasn't going to fight him long when his hands gripped her hips firmly. He snorted, rolling her hard on her back. He overpowered her, pressing her tightly to the ground. She tried to reach for the blasters, but they were out of reach of her hand. She struggled under his weight as he tried to pull off her helmet. She couldn't allow it. She quickly pulled the knife out and with a single cut into the carotid artery killed him. Blood splattered over her armor, creating a sort of abstract image on her chest.

She pushed the dead body off her, grabbed the blasters, and rose sharply. Pain pierced her whole body, radiating from her left calf. She looked at the area, which was completely exposed, and saw the wound slowly bleeding through her own blood. But the guards were getting closer and faster, and she needed shelter. She looked around her nervously, people did not make this task easy for her, looked at her in horror and dragged curious children pointing at her with their fingers.

She could see a darkened alley between the buildings, perhaps it was just a dead end - she had no idea. She knew, however, that no further run was pointless.  
She had been hiding in the dark for years.

Since she joined the Death Pack two years ago, she had the feeling that the darkness was overwhelming her from day to day, clenching her claws on her soul and heart. She had always been cold and almost emotionless, and the group she joined praised her indifference to other people's fate. She killed in cold blood, though she did not enjoy it. She treated human death as a necessity in some cases. Sometimes she had to kill in order to live and to defend her friends, even when she was not sure that they would stand up for her.  
It was a dead end. Fortunately for her, the lights of the street lamps did not reach down the alley, which made her feel at least a little sheltered. She heard the guards screaming, and their heavy steps grew closer and closer.

The woman sat down in the corner, leaning against the brick wall of one of the buildings. She hissed softly, feeling her calf pulsate and the blood venting again through the fabric of her pants. It couldn't be that bad though. She quickly pulled a piece of cloth out of the bag slung over her shoulder and wrapped the wound. She couldn't remember the moment she had been hurt. Adrenaline kept her from feeling pain until she fell. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back against the wall.

She could have sat there for a few seconds, maybe a few minutes, she wasn't sure, but as soon as she heard the sound of the door opening, she immediately strained all her senses and got to her feet, ignoring the pain that was piercing her.

It was late. The night has come. The minutes may have been hours. The woman held her breath, noticing the opposite corner where the light stood, almost reaching her feet. It was a warm light, yellow, radiating safety. There was a man in the doorway. She couldn't see him clearly, he was just a dark figure against the bright light. He looked around. She was still clinging to the dark corner, trying to withdraw as much as possible. She wished she could blend in with the wall.

"Are you there?" He suddenly asked in Basic. She wasn't sure the question was meant for her, but she wasn't going to answer it anyway. She was breathing softly, standing still, hoping that the man would quickly disappear inside the building.

Then there was a soft click in her communicator. She tried to turn off the pesky device, knowing it was too late. The man's gaze was directed towards her. She pulled her blasters out slowly, ready to attack at any moment. The man descended a few steps and slowly began to approach her. He came close, almost within arm's reach, she didn't shoot him. There was something about him that made her still even more.

His eyes, his extraordinary eyes fixed on her helmet. Eyes searching for her eyes.

He - in the light and warm, she - in the dark and cold, with blasters pointing at him.  
She hoped he would run away, not expecting the soft smile he offered her. She stared at his youthful face and that stupid smile. She rolled her eyes under her helmet, but didn't back away.

"I won't hurt you," he said. His voice was calm, she only felt a slight tremor. The man was not armed, he had no distinctive armor. The new Mandalorian. There was a man standing in front of her who she should have considered a traitor, she should have shot him, and yet… she couldn't. He looked so innocent. Her hands trembled though she tried with all her might to stop it.

"You're hurt. I'll help you, okay?" He asked, then looked at the blood leaking through the dressing. She backed away quickly, her back crashing into the cold wall.

" _Copaani gaan?_ [Want a helping hand?]" He added in Mando'a. The young woman looked at him in surprise, thanking for the helmet which concealed both surprise and surprise. The new Mandalorians didn't know their language, they mostly used a common one, right? 

"It's okay," she said, her voice strangely strange.

"You can talk," he commented softly, as if it were something unusual.

"Of course I can, di'kut," she murmured, suddenly gritting her teeth as the pain pierced her calf once more. She wanted to bend over to check her condition, but the man still stood opposite.

"It doesn't look very good. I've got bacta and pain injections inside," he said. "I'm alone, there's no one else. Nobody's gonna know you're here. I promise."

There was something in his voice that made her take his word for it. She slowly walked away from the wall and let him go ahead. She still hadn't holster her blasters, just in case.

The interior of the room they found themselves in was dimly lit compared to the rest of the rooms. She stepped inside uncertainly, looking around. She was prepared for any circumstance.

"Follow me," said the young man, leading her down the hall. "There's no one here," he repeated.

She didn't trust people.

For years, she had been told not to trust anyone who was not family, although the family often made her distrust. For the most part, she relied only on herself. Her mother did not care about her fate, her father issued her as a bargaining chip, and she joined the Death Watch. This gave her family prosperity and a higher position. Nobody asked her opinion. She was faced with accomplished facts. However, she did not complain, she could find herself in any company, and above all in one that gathered heartless warriors. In a way, she is someone like them. She didn't have too many friends, in fact, she had no one to confide with. She suppressed her feelings, never smiled, finding no reason. She was secretive, quiet, but brave and extremely effective.  
She trusted Bo-Katan Kryze.

The redheaded younger woman was the only person she could trust, except herself. She ran away from the luxurious palace to join a gang of warriors, completely opposing her sister's rule. Since she was faithful to traditions, she trained from an early age, although her sister, the then ruler of Mandalore, was completely against it. Bo didn't listen to anyone or almost anyone...

"Sit down here, I'll get the bandages," he said, disappearing from her eyes after a moment. The woman looked around the room he had left her in. In the past, she used to visit such places as a child. She thought they called them art galleries or something. The walls were covered with huge paintings. Some depicted characters, people, other landscapes. One of them in particular caught her eye. She approached him carefully and reached out to touch his surface.  
It was all very material, with a specific shape and structure. They were nothing like the images she had seen on holo receivers.

"It's my favorite," the man said, coming right behind her back. She trembled slightly, did not hear his footsteps. She glanced nervously around the room, but no one was there.

"I shouldn't be here," she said softly. "You shouldn't be helping me."

"Sit down."

She sat down.

She felt pain spread all over her body. She sighed heavily, not pushing him away any longer. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back as he carefully began to remove the dressing she hastily applied. The helmet muffled her heavy breathing as the man washed her wound.

"They shot you," he said softly, putting on a clean bandage. She also felt a short prick, but didn't speak. Her body was calm and the pain suddenly subsided. The man seemed to have helped her up. Guess he took her to another room. Guess there was a bed he thought he put her on. She fell asleep.

*****

He sat down next to her, watching her chest rise up and down. He had never seen a Mandalorian in armor before. He had a lot of work to do, he should have left, but he couldn't take his eyes off her. He put his hands on the sides of her helmet so that he could lift it, but the woman suddenly shifted uneasily and he jumped back. He got up quickly, then left the room. He paused a moment more in the aisle and looked in her direction.

The True Mandalorians were not what they thought here in the capital. He was reckless, he let a complete stranger into his world, and yet he had the impression that she was not a total stranger.

She should have killed him. She didn't. Why?

He decided not to think about it any longer and went to his art studio, and another idea burst into his mind.

She was safe here.  
He hoped.

*****

She woke up completely confused. She was lying on a soft bed in a small room. She sat up abruptly, looking nervously around. The room didn't look like a cell and her hands weren't handcuffed. They didn't catch her. But it took a moment to remember what had happened a few moments ago, maybe a few hours ago - again, she wasn't sure how much time she had really lost in sleep.

She threw back the blanket she had been covered with and slowly swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Her shoes touched the floor and the pain spread through her body once again. It lasted for a second, then stopped suddenly as soon as it appeared. She looked down to see the still clean bandage.

The New Mandalorian saved her.

She should have shot him. She didn't.

Her communicator hummed as she turned it on again. She managed to listen to the messages left by her crew members. They will wait for her in the eastern part of town until dawn. She had no idea what time it might be, but she should leave as soon as possible. She found her blasters on the table next to the bed. She tossed them back into their holsters. She leaned gently through the doorframe, but there was no one in the corridor. She cautiously passed it to the door through which she was led into the building yesterday. Before leaving the dark alley for the last time, she turned towards the light. He was standing there, at the end of the corridor, a few yards from her.  
She couldn't thank him.

She had to get away. As soon as possible.

And forget him. Forever.

*******

Long after she had left his shelter, his home and workplace without a word, he was still sitting over the new painting. He tried to control his violently beating heart. She slept for several hours and he occasionally walked towards the room where he had laid her down and stared at her, unable to tear his eyes away.  
He didn't even know what he looked like. He had no idea if her hair was light or dark like her own. Or red, like Duchess Satine's sister's hair?  
He wondered what color her eyes were...

There were so many questions that ran through his mind. He will probably never get an answer to these questions, though so much as he would like to.

He sat up in his chair and looked at his latest creation. His face lit up with a gentle smile full of pride.

He always opened his art gallery in the morning, although most people came in the evenings. However, he did not want to show other passers-by from the street, who were not really interested in art.

He wondered what she would think of his latest work, which... portrayed her. He tried to depict the smallest detail of her gray and gold helmet in the painting. It was this piece of armor that was the main issue.

The more he stared at the painting, the more he missed something. He grabbed a thick brush and dipped it in a heavily watered-down gray paint. He left wet marks at the very top of the painting, letting the paint trickle down the line. Drops were dripping on his shoes, and a smile was growing on his lips every moment.

Mandalore was not a war-ridden planet, yet it felt as if humans simply didn't know about it. The new Mandalorians hadn't worn armor in years, he couldn't remember when he wore his armor, probably it had become too small for him. The woman he had met and helped was not part of their pacifist world. In fact, he had no idea what world she might belong to.

True Mandalorians. Was she a True Mandalorian? Was she his enemy?  
Did Mandalore have enemies since it was a neutral planet, inhabited only by pacifists?

He signed the painting with his own artistic pseudonym and stood up to view the new work from a distance of several meters.  
The paint was still dripping, leaving gray streaks on the canvas that flowed like tears.

'Mandalore in the Dark' - this is what he wanted to call his work, but left it untitled.

It will be better this way, he thought, and then left the studio.

*******

"It took you a surprisingly long time to get to base," Pre Vizsla commented, eyeing her suspiciously. However, she did not cower under his sharp gaze, on the contrary, she crossed her gaze with him.

"I ran into some problems," she replied firmly, straightening up. She felt the pain spreading, but she didn't even wince. She gritted her teeth tightly and her nails dug into the skin of her own hands. There was no time for weakness, no more.

"Someone should see you. I don't need wounded, damaged warriors," he whispered, approaching her ear. He gently cupped her chin in his fingers, studying her face intently. Then he smiled slightly. She hated that smile so much. And his lips on her own.

She pushed him away as soon as he initiated the kiss. He wasn't angry, he smiled again, and the men gathered in the tent laughed. Pre with them. Then he leaned over to her and whispered a few words again.

She did not react. She didn't say a word. She just turned around and left.

Pre Vizsla never took her seriously. To him, she was just another woman for one night, though to tell the truth, nothing ever happened between them.  
His gaze was icy, bone-piercing, so completely different from the gaze of the man she had met in Sundari. Those eyes were warm, hazel, radiant with light and safety… and though she would never admit it, she began to miss them.

*****

"Someone's in love," Bo-Katan muttered, looking at her friend who had been trying to repair her fighter for the past two hours. The Mandalorian snorted in response, bending over the fault once again.

Two weeks had passed since her return.

"This is starting to get annoying, Bo," she said, throwing the rag at her friend. Bo-Katan always had reflexes, so she caught it before it hit her face.

"Just admit it."

"I saw him once. I'm not in love, _vod_. Stop talking about it all the time. Better tell me how things are going between you and the handsome Mandalore Protector," she asked, giving her friend a meaningful smile.

"Hush," Bo-Katan hissed. "Someone else will hear."

The young woman joined the redhead and then returned to their private quarters. They were alone here.

"So?"

"What's to be? All is well."

"Doesn't Pre know anything?"

"He doesn't even guess. Why do you ask?"

"I have a feeling he has started to control you more recently. Take care of yourself, Bo."

"Don't worry about me. I can handle it"

"Good," the woman smiled. "I'd like to be an aunt."

"In your dreams," Bo-Katan laughed, adding nothing more.

She would like to have a real family.  
Someone she could love with all her heart. Someone who would become a light in her dark heart.

*******

The building looked spectacular in the daylight. She stood in front of the door for several minutes, staring at the columns and frescoes of prominent Mandalorians. She hadn't been in such a place for a long time, but she calmly admitted that this world was becoming more and more interesting for her.  
She straightened her cloak, which covered almost all of her armor, then ran her fingers through her long dark hair. She sighed softly, then crossed the threshold with a few passers-by, blending into the small crowd.

*****

He opened his art gallery a moment ago, but he was in no mood to show people around and talk about each painting. He let the new apprentices prove himself while he handed out leaflets at the entrance. He was smiling friendly and wishing a pleasant viewing, but nothing else. He missed something, or maybe someone, though he tried to fight that longing. He didn't know her. He didn't even know her name. Why did it hurt so much?

*****

She stood in front of one of the paintings, unable to contain a slight smile, but also surprise. The painting was dated as the newest in the exhibition, painted exactly the night she met him. It showed a Mandalorian woman, or at least her helmet in shades of many shades of gray and dirty gold, and her arms of the same colors. The painting itself was not intriguing, but the enormous stain on it, from which the paint was dripping down, which could be compared to raindrops. She extended her hand toward the painting as if to see if she could rub them off. Then she heard a scream.

"Don't touch it!"

*****

Alrich was summoned moments after he heard a scream from one of the rooms of his gallery. He recognized his apprentice's voice, and as he got closer, he heard a woman's voice as well. Her voice. He sped up, unable to believe it. What was she doing here? Why has she come? Was she in armor again?  
He paused, looking at her cloaked back, on which long, dark hair was flowing, fastened only with a golden hairpin.

"Sir, this is the woman who wanted to destroy your painting," said the young man, much younger than the woman. She turned back.

Her gaze stung him, pierced him almost right through.

"Exclude this room from the sightseeing plan. I'll talk to her," said Alrich as he walked over to them. The young woman looked at him in surprise, the apprentice, who had accosted her similarly, but under the influence of his superior's gaze, immediately walked away, asking people to leave the room. Alrich only looked down at him when he heard the sound of the door closing.

"You have interesting ways to draw attention to myself," he said softly, smiling gently.

"I needed to see you. Not necessarily… in such a situation."

*****

"This painting..." she began.

"I couldn't stop thinking about you," he admitted softly. It sounded so stupid.

She smiled, and he felt as if there was light in her brown eyes. For a moment her eyes seemed to be an amber shade.

"I don't understand the painting," she said, pointing to the artwork. "Is it a rain?"

"Tears. I think so," he replied as she showed streams of dirty, dark color.

"It's your painting, you must know that."

"Everyone can interpret it in their own way. For me they are tears, for you it could be rain. But why?" He asked, looking at her curiously. She shrugged, then looked away.

"I don't know your name," she said after a moment, suddenly changing the subject.

"Alrich. Alrich Eldar," he replied.

She nodded. She knew some of the clan's warriors, but had never met the New Mandalorian. In fact, he was the only New Mandalorian she had known.

"Then why do you think these are tears, Alrich?"

"Tears remind me of darkness, a place where a everyone runs away when wants to be alone, hiding all secrets from the world. Besides, everyone cries sometimes, right?" He asked, but she didn't answer. She didn't nod, didn't move. She stared at the picture but listened to his words.

"I should go now. Actually, I just came here to thank you. For the rescue," she whispered and turned to leave the room quickly.

"What's your name?" He asked, taking her gently by the wrist.

There was so much tenderness in his gestures.

"No, I can't-"

" _Tion gar gai?_ [What's your name?]" He asked, this time at Mando'a, looking her in the eye, enjoying the glow that faded from second to second.

"Ursa. Ursa Wren," she whispered, then tore her hand away and ran away. She opened the door, then slipped through the crowd and disappeared.

*****

He was left alone. With a soft whisper in his ears. Ursa. Her name was Ursa.  
Ursa Wren who saw the rain.

*****

She stripped off her coat and pulled her hair tight so she could put on her helmet. Bo-Katan looked at her in surprise as Ursa entered the cockpit of the ship they had flown to Mandalore, but didn't say a word. She sat down in the pilot's seat, grateful for the helmet that hid all the emotions that gathered in her eyes.

As they entered the hyperspace, she thought about his words, about what he had said. He had no idea how often she had been in the dark, dreaming only of light. But there was no place in it for people like her. For people like her, only darkness remains.


	2. your heart

_you can’t see a way out  
you’ve run out of time now  
you’ve lost your heart inside this war_

**24 BBY**

_The skin went numb where he had kissed it.  
She squeezed her eyes shut, refusing to remember the expression on his face as he ran his hands over her bare back. Eyes filled with desire, her own hidden behind the lids, expressing pure hatred. She didn't want her body to tremble every time he approached her, and yet she couldn't stop it._

_"Gar cuyi mesh'la [You are beautiful]," he whispered directly into her ear, tangling his fingers in her thick, dark hair. His rough hand rested on her cheek, stroking it slowly, casually._

_"Urs'ika," he whispered, folding kisses along her jaw. The gentle strokes of her lips and his hands wandering over her body, leaving the touch far from pleasant. Her fingers tightened on the table top he pressed her against. Her knuckles almost turned white as she tried her best not to push the man away._

_She couldn't do that.  
He owned her.  
Every night._

_She jerked as one of his hands unhooked the belt from her pants._

_"Udesii, cyar'ika [take it easy, darling]," he whispered, kissing her once more. She wanted to wipe off those kisses._

_He tugged on her hair, making her chin lift as if she wanted him to kiss her neck.  
In fact, she wanted him dead._

_"I'll make you scream for pleasure, cyar'ika," he muttered in Basic._

_She remembered his eyes.  
An icy stare staring at her body, following every, even the smallest, movement. He was staring at her, almost swallowing her with his eyes, and she could only fake indifference.  
She hated his eyes.  
Those gray, cold eyes._

*******

"Ursa?"

His voice would have recognized even at the end of the galaxy and the touch of his fingers would almost heal her wounds. The heart pounded at her chest at a dizzying pace and he merely put his hand on her back, stroking it gently. She had to wake him up.

She looked back, catching his worried gaze. He often looks at her like this, as if he is trying to read something in her eyes. But it was always unavailable.

She learned to hide feelings within herself, suppress them, not show them to the people around her. Apart from Bo-Katan, he was the only one who slowly took over her safe haven. Alrich had something about him that allowed her to show confidence, and that was a lot.

"I'm fine. I'll go for a walk," she said, then threw back the blanket she'd covered a few moments ago as she fell asleep in his arms. He didn't ask if he should accompany her and she didn't have to answer that she would be fine. It was easier that way.

He became her friend.  
Sometimes he was more than that, sometimes just an acquaintance, and sometimes he was nothing but a stranger, a painter she had heard about in her old life. They had to be safe, always have an excuse, especially when she left the camp to meet him secretly in Sundari.  
They had been in this relationship for five months.

She didn't regret a single moment or a minute spent with this man. She still hadn't told him the whole truth, fearing it would all go away. She didn't want to lose it. She didn't want to lose Alrich. Bo-Katan was still talking about feelings. Ursa was fed up with her. She wasn't ready to give him her own life, though she felt deep down in her heart that she couldn't still call their relations as friendship.

There was also Pre.  
Alrich didn't know that the woman he loved was part of the Death Watch. Ursa couldn't tell him or maybe she didn't want to. Yes, he knew she was a True Mandalorian, but her attachment to a terrorist group led by Vizsla could weigh on their relationship. Maybe he would just betray her.  
They were always in the same place - in his famous art gallery.

At first, he showed paintings, talked about them, and she just listened, curious. The images were so real, so tangible, at hand… they were real in a world she knew only from photos. It made them so beautiful. And, of course, the talent that the young man possessed.

Alrich was a modest man but he also seemed charming when she praised his works. She loved to look at them, to imagine that this was what her whole life was like - just with him, only in this one building - away from the war, from Pre and from the dreams that haunted her peaceful mind.

She sat down in front of the picture he had painted the night they first met. More than once she stayed a little longer with it, examining every detail as if trying to find something new, a hidden detail that only a true art expert can see. Or an expert on Alrich.

It seemed to her that, unlike her, the young man was much more open. She knew so much about him - about his family, friends and future plans. She seldom spoke of herself. She could not bring up topics related to the Death Watch, so she did not tell him about her present life; more often she referred to her childhood memories.

"You still see rain on it?"

His voice sounded suddenly behind her back. She quickly turned her head, noticing how he was leaning against the frame of the door leading to this room. She didn't answer right away, waited for him to join her and sit next to her. He did, then took her hand in his, his fingers slowly joining them as if he were still waiting for permission.

"I'm not sure what I see," she whispered, resting her head on his shoulder. "Sometimes I have an impression-" she began, but stopped suddenly, sighing heavily.

"You can tell me, Ursa. You know you can trust me," he said softly.

She nodded, thinking for a moment.  
She felt trapped by lying, constantly deceiving him, feeling guilty. She felt so lonely, though he held her in his arms. In times like this, she just wanted to stop time, make her whole life suddenly what she wanted to be.

"Sometimes it feels like tears coming out suddenly, unexpectedly when you don't want it," she whispered very softly, so that he hardly understood her.  
He didn't answer. He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb, making this moment peaceful. For a moment she didn't think about Pre, or Bo-Katan, about the people she might fail with her behavior. For a moment she was just happy in the arms of the man she loved.

*****

"Haar’chak!" Bo-Katan shouted as the weapon locked again, preventing her from taking a straight shot. She examined the blaster, shaking it as if that would help. Ursa rolled her eyes and extended her hand to her friend's weapon. Her family was known to make similar blasters, so she knew them like no one else in the camp.

"Shoot with precision, otherwise you can say goodbye to the Death Watch," Ursa mocked, handing her the gun back after a while. She stretched her arm out in front of her and launched a missile towards the nearest target, hitting the center.

"Have you taken extra lessons, Wren?" The redhead asked, nudging her friend.

"I've always been better than you," Ursa replied, puting the blasters into her holsters. She brushed her wet fringe away from her sweaty forehead and started toward the camp.

She trained mostly with Bo-Katan, sometimes with other members of the Death Watch, improving her skills day by day. She had to be strong and precise, the best and invincible. She wanted to show that she was trustworthy.

Although she lied to everyone around.

Pre Vizsla was sitting in his tent as she went inside. She was to fly to Sundari to pick up secret city maps prepared by a man who had been impersonating the New Mandalorian for the past few weeks to get as much detail as possible about the canals beneath the capital. Ursa was assigned to this task, which was convenient for her. In the morning she sent an encrypted message to Alrich informing him of her mission.

"You called me," she said dryly, straightening up in front of him. He loved when people stood at attention in front of him.

She stared straight ahead, pursing her lips, expressing no emotion.

"Your mission has been canceled," he replied, rising from his seat. Ursa looked at him literally for a second, unable to contain her surprise, but quickly returned to her previous, indifferent expression. Pre examined her silhouette carefully, she felt his gaze on her body. She shuddered inside herself, remembering a dream she had had from time to time. Although they were alone in the nightmare, now the guards were here. He wouldn't hurt her in front of them, would he?

"You will stay in the camp, Dreg will fly to Sundari," he said, walking towards her slowly. He leaned against the table directly behind him and for a moment studied her reaction on her face. She gritted her teeth tighter. "Not what you expected, right?" She didn't answer. "Well, neither am I. But I have heard some rumors."

Her heart felt as if it had stopped.

Alrich, not Alrich, she repeated in her mind like a mantra. It was so hard to contain the body from trembling.

He reached for his datapad and searched it very carefully. Her heart rate sped up in her veins, and her heart beat harder every second. She wondered how much longer she would hold out.

"Identification: Ursa Wren of Clan Wren. Terrorist."

He repeated the words several times, then turned the screen towards her so she could see her own face, without the helmet. She immediately recognized the street where she was probably captured by street camera. The photo was not very clear.

"Why were you taking your helmet off?!"

She didn't answer.

"You became the New Mandalorian's bitch?" He asked sharply. His words cut through the heavy air.

Again she didn't answer.

He looked into her eyes for a long time, but she didn't even flinch. She tried to hide everything. Hide feelings behind the mask, don't show weakness...  
She thought about death, about killing, about explosions and attacks. She was steeped in war, it was all so easy. It was so easy to meet his eyes, seeing the reflection of his own soul in them. She was like him. She was a _monster_.

"Vizsla?"

Someone distracted him, looked away, then walked away, leaving her alone. The guards were still in the same, motionless poses. She wondered if there were soft smiles hidden behind their helmets.

*****

Bo-Katan found her outside the base, in daily training, in their favorite place, hidden behind thick trees. Shooting at targets wasn't going great for her that day, well, she wasn't doing very well at all.

"Give it up," Bo-Katan said in greeting. Her friend hadn't thought to obey and continued to aim at the targets, but none of the missiles were aimed directly at the targets.

"I'm sorry you can't go to Sundari. Your painter must be waiting for you," Bo said, sitting down on one of the stones. Ursa looked at her with an icy gaze.

"He's not my painter. Fuck, Bo, he means nothing," growled the older one. Another shot, another missed.

"You hear yourself? Pre did brainwashed you?" She asked, in an equally sharp tone. "You haven't seen the world outside of it in the last months, and now what, suddenly means nothing to you?"

"This will be better."

"For whom?"

"For both of us."

They met each other's eyes for a moment.

"Pre will find out eventually. Kill him, kill me. It's too much of a risk. Alrich's not guilty of anything," she said honestly, finally puting the blasters away.

"You're worried about him."

"What does it matter?"

"You love him."

"We're friends, that's all," she said, knowing it didn't sound convincing.

"You risked your life for him, Ursa. It's obvious you love him."

The woman sighed. She didn't feel like arguing, especially since Bo-Katan was absolutely right. She fell in love with him, knowing it was risky that they could both lose their lives if the truth was discovered. And yet neither of them was about to quit.

"This will be better," she whispered.

"You don't believe it," Bo replied, continuing.

Ursa was not going to answer her. She just walked away, hoping Bo wouldn't follow her. And so it happened. Ursa heard shots behind her, as inaccurate as her own.

Bo-Katan loved risks and took them whenever possible. She had been dating one of the Protetor of Mandalore for over a year. Ursa had heard a lot about him, she had seen him in the holonet several times when successive promotions of the proud Mandalore's soldiers were announced. At first, she rolled her eyes and criticized Bo-Katan's approach to the situation. Moreover, she didn't understand the Protector. He'd risked everything for Bo, his reputation, his whole life.

Ursa never believed in love. Her parents got married out of duty, they hardly knew each other. Ursa had never looked that far into the future, but she knew that the same fate awaited her. Their clan was valued, she could take someone from a lower social class for her husband, although her father would probably never agree to it.

She returned to camp and immediately headed for her tent, which she shared with Bo and the two other women who were fortunately patrolling the planet today. She sat down on the bunk, then reached for the hidden communicator. For a moment she considered making a call to Alrich, twirling the little device in her fingers. However, she quickly hid them as she heard footsteps approaching. A moment later, one of the Pre guards she had met before stood in front of her.

"Ursa, we got a message from Count Wren, he wants to see you right now," he said, then left the tent. The young woman got up reluctantly and followed him.

*****

She flied to Krownest asking herself questions. Her father asked her to come home as soon as possible, to make it before the departure of a certain painter who agreed to paint a picture of their family. Her mother's strange whim, that was what Count Wren had explained. She couldn't refuse, in a sense she didn't even want to, although she played in front of her father with complete indifference. But her heart beat a little harder than usual when she heard his name.  
Eldar. Alrich Eldar from Mandalore.

What did Alrich Wren sound like? Is it a bit worse? Or maybe better?  
She dismissed those thoughts.

She would have to tell him the truth, or at least part of it. Then she will turn and walk away with her chin raised. Everyone will notice indifference on her face, he will probably be the only person to hear the sound of a heart breaking.

*****

She sat down on her father's throne, still staring straight ahead, though he had changed the position of her body many times. Finally, he asked her to look his way, to make the pose more believable and dignified. So she looked at him, trying to hold back the trembling of her lips and the tears that gathered at the corners of her eyes. She wondered how much details he saw.  
He smiled slightly as he applied another brushstroke to the canvas. She thought about how he felt as he stood in front of her, painting her portrait.  
Apart from the guards, they were alone here, and she wished there were no one here. I would go up to him and tell him...  
What was she really going to tell him?

"Ursa?"

The question distracted her from her thoughts. Her father was standing over her, shaking her shoulder slightly. She looked up, then stood up and took the two steps down. He himself sat on the throne.

"You will fly with him to Sundari."

"Why?"

He didn't reply, just sent her the ID code to show on one of the ships that would take her back to Pre. She didn't want to go back there.  
She nodded and left the throne room, not waiting for the surprised painter to follow right behind her.

*****

Alrich was looking in her direction all the way from Krownest to Mandalore. She sat at the controls, but didn't fly. In fact, he didn't know so far how important she was, or that she was a contender for the throne of her own clan. She withheld a lot of information about herself, and he didn't know what to think about it all.

Maybe she just wanted to use him? Maybe she had some hidden purpose in it? Perhaps she needed someone familiar with the Sundari topography? Maybe… everything she said was a lie.

He loved her. He loved her so much it hurt when he thought she could only use him. She was a True Mandalorian, she killed in cold blood - at least he had heard of people like her, unscrupulous and heartless people. And yet, he saw a light in her. Not all were filled with only darkness. He wanted to believe it.

*****

She wanted to be on his side.  
She might not believe in the policies of Pre Vizsla, but what else was left to her than to follow him. She knew no other way, though the random killings he did, the people he had killed because they had failed him - that was too much. She hadn't thought about it before, she was following orders, she was a good soldier who didn't ask questions. She was extremely effective, that's why she joined the Death Watch, so Pre Vizsla personally took care of her training.  
Her family fought from generation to generation, they knew no other way, so they were one of the first clans to leave Satine Kryze's rule, although some members remained in the capital.

 _Dar'manda_.

She felt like a traitor.  
She betrayed herself, but she couldn't fight the feeling that turned out to be stronger. For years she had learned to deny feelings, push them away, now - she couldn't.

_"Ursa!" The woman shouted, reaching the girl who was staring in horror at the frozen body lying right by the lake shore. The dead man's eyes were open. He was looking at her with indifference, the way she looked at him. She gazed over his motionless body, but there were no tears in her eyes as if she didn't feel sorry for him. He saved her. He was her protector. He pulled her out of the icy water, falling under the ice himself. She called for help. They came too late. It wasn't her fault, she hadn't done anything wrong. She shouldn't have been here, playing near the lake. But it was her protector, he was supposed to protect her, and he did - he saved her life._

_"Ursa, are you okay?"_

_People sometimes asked so many questions that were out of place. Nobody asked the man._

_"Come home, Ursa."_

_Sometimes she thought this world was simple - only the strongest would survive._

_"Nobody will hurt you, Urs'ika, if you don't let him into your world," her father told her one day. She was lying in her bed with tears in her eyes, only moments after the news that one of her friends had died under mysterious circumstances._

_Ursa was only five years old when she was taught to hide emotions, feelings, hide her true self._

*****

"Ursa?"

Alrich was surprised by her sudden appearance at the threshold of the back door of his art studio. He didn't remember them dating tonight. He was never good at planning, was often late to art show or forgot about meetings. But since he met Ursa, he had been checking his communicator every now and then to make sure he didn't miss any messages.

"We can talk?" She asked immediately.

"Yes. Something happened?"

She didn't answer right away. Instead, she went to her favorite room to be in a familiar place. He turned off the cameras, as he always did while she was here.

"We can't see each other any longer. It's got dangerous, I feel being watched," she said softly, not looking at him.

"Watched? By whom?" He asked. Suddenly she tensed.

"Alrich, I… should have told you about this," she began, feeling her heart beat faster.

"About the fact that you belong to a terrorist group, or maybe that all these attacks on the capital were planned by you?"

His voice sounded rough.

"I couldn't tell you," she tried to defend herself, knowing it was a lame excuse.

"Couldn't you or didn't you want to? How long did you wanna go on this? What did you get from it?"

He threw questions at her, waiting for her answers. And she just stood and looked somewhere above him. A completely new painting appeared on the wall. She stared at it.

"You painted it again," she said softly, then passed and slowly walked over to the new work. She looked at the vivid colors, devoid of the characteristic streams that flowed over the original.

"True Mandalorians never cry, do they?" He asked, appearing next to her. He saw tears on her cheeks. She wanted to wipe them down quickly, but he grabbed her wrists making it impossible for her to do so. He brought his lips closer to hers, joining them in a gentle kiss that turned into a moment of oblivion. They moved their lips slowly to the soundless rhythm, examining their silent desires.  
Alrich released her wrists to put his hands on her waist. He felt her fingers a moment later, as they were partly entangled in his hair and partly stayed in his neck.  
Tears were still streaming down her cheeks as they grabbed each other. He lifted her chin so he could look into the eyes of the young woman.

"Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum, cyar'ika [I love you, darling]," he whispered.

She couldn't answer, though she wanted the words to leave her mouth so badly.

"Alrich, I... I can't," she whispered, trying to disentangle herself from his arms. "If anyone finds out about us... they'll kill you. I don't want this. I can't loose you. I don't want to lose you."

"Hey, don't worry about me. I can handle it."

"You don't know him, you don't know what he is capable of," she tried to talk him out of.

"Who is he?" Alrich asked, looking straight at her. She couldn't tell him. She pursed her lips tightly so as not to say a word. It was a great mystery. She wanted to scream his name, announce it to the entire galaxy. She could not.

"Tell me, Ursa. Tell me something real," he asked, feeling her lie overwhelm him more and more.

" _Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum_ , Alrich Eldar," she whispered, looking him straight in the eye. He smiled and leaned in again to kiss her.

She wanted to run away, but she stayed, entangled in his arms, with his lips on hers, with so much hope in her heart. And with love. She loved this painter. Nothing else mattered.

**23 BBY**

"Become my wife," he said aloud, in all seriousness. She looked up at him in surprise. His eyes were often filled with joy, laughter - now these feelings have been replaced by responsibility and truth. He wasn't kidding.

"What?"

"Become my wife," he repeated.

"What's in it for you?"

"I'm going to be the happiest man in the galaxy, Ursa," he smiled. She huffed under her breath, but couldn't help but smile herself. A gentle smile that she only gave him.

"Where did this sudden decision come from?" She asked, landing in his arms. He pressed his body to her back and resting his chin on top of her head. "You became a famous painter, Alrich, you don't need any more publicity."

"I'm not doing this for publicity, copikla."

Ursa frowned.

"What did you call me?" She was outraged, turning to pierce him with an icy glare she could kill.

"Cyar'ika! That was the word I wanted to say. Cyar'ika, I swear," he said quickly, knowing the dangers of saying copikla to the True Mandalorian. It's like a death sentence handed down on yourself.  
She watched him for a moment longer through narrowed eyes.

"Will you be my wife, mhi mesh'la Urs'ika [my beautiful]?" He asked quietly and still hesitantly.

It wasn't a dream.

She lifted her lids, looking deep into his eyes - those bright, warm eyes that she loved so much. She nodded, knowing he wasn't kidding. Knowing that she couldn't imagine her life without him by her side.

It's been a year since they first met on the street. A year since he saw her in the deep darkness and brought her into a pleasant light that opened her heart and her soul. He made the galaxy seem less scary, and everything around it took on color. He was an artist, if he could hear her thoughts, he would call them artistic disorder. She would have laughed knowing that only in his presence she felt at ease. Only in his presence she be what she wants to be. She didn't have to pretend to be an invincible warrior, an invincible Mandalorian, a serious Countess of Clan Wren.

In a few days, she will take over the clan. And he will stand by her side. They will accept him as they accept her. She will be happy, although she will still hide it.

Alrich stared into her eyes for a moment when he suddenly bent down and reached her lips, bringing them together into a gentle kiss. He fell in love with her at first sight, not believing at first that they could succeed. He was afraid of another unhappy love, but at Ursa's side he felt that he could do everything. She was darkness in the light, though he really knew she was lost.  
Ursa was a True Mandalorian, embroiled in war, seeing only one way. He wanted to open up the world to her, and it felt like he did.

He knew her duties, he knew it would not be easy for them, but he wanted to take the risk. He put everything on the life by her side. He wanted this life and the happiness he could give her.

"Will you take a marriage vow with me?" She asked softly, looking at him.

"Elek, cyar'ika [Yes, darling]" he replied, tucking her hair behind her ear.

She was wearing her armor and he was wearing everyday clothes and an apron stained with paint. He wanted to laugh at what they looked like, but suddenly remembered that she would not approve of it. Instead, he focused entirely on her eyes.

"Mhi solus tome, [Together we are one]" she began.  
"Mhi solus tome," he repeated, smiling broadly.

Someday I will ask her to marry me, he thought as he went to bed in the evening someday in the past.

"Mhi solus dar’tome [We are one separately]."  
"Mhi solus dar’tome."

One day I will tell the stars about her beauty.

"Mhi me'dinui an [We share everything]."  
"Mhi me'dinui an."

One day I will keep her in my heart forever.

"Mhi ba'jur verde [We raise warriors]."  
"Mhi ba'jur verde."

One day…

He kissed her, relishing each movement of their lips, each soft groan, each silent desire for closeness. He untied her hair and tangled his fingers in it, feeling her body move towards him. They were so close, so damn close, so damn in love.

“Ner riduur [My husband], she whispered, lying in his arms a few hours later, playing with his hair.  
"Ner cyar'ika [My love]," he whispered back without even opening his eyes. After all, she was so close. Close to his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took so long. I really did not expect such problems with writing this chapter. But at last it showed up.  
> Hope you like it! Thank you for all the comments (I read them when I am most doubtful and they always make me feel better).  
> You are loved! 💛💛

**Author's Note:**

> All lyrics are taken from the song _'With you til the end'_ by Tommee Profitt 💛
> 
> Thank you for reading and I encourage you to comment! 💛


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